


i will always keep you safe;

by bloodynargles



Series: adventures in canon; [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Dragon Age Quest: Protect Clan Lavellan, Dragon Age Quest: Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Halamshiral, SORRY LUCIE, The Winter Palace (Dragon Age), companion piece to 'falon'din ma ghilana', my smols
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:36:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5704498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodynargles/pseuds/bloodynargles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My clan was attacked several months ago, I am afraid I no longer have siblings, my lady.” It was the nicest way to say it, delicate and reserved, like the grief had passed and she couldn't hear her brother's laugh echoing around her mind every time someone said something particularly inappropriate in casual conversation,</p>
            </blockquote>





	i will always keep you safe;

**Author's Note:**

> companion piece to this: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5227283 , set afterwards, during the mission Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts.
> 
> this is slowly becoming a thing where i edit caps and geT FEELINGS.

“Do you not wish your siblings were here, Inquisitor?” Her breath catches in her throat, her lungs feeling tight and she does her best to push the air through her teeth, trying not to alert the other to the tears rising in her eyes or the distinct feeling of an oncoming dry sob. “My clan was attacked several months ago, I am afraid I no longer have siblings, my lady.” It was the nicest way to say it, delicate and reserved, like the grief had passed and she couldn't hear her brother's laugh echoing around her mind every time someone said something particularly inappropriate in casual conversation, or perhaps feel her sister's ghost hand, pulling her back from rushing into danger when she could easily attack from afar. The Duchess's face falls a little and the feeling of half sincerity sneaks into her voice, Althrael being easily reminded of something one of her companions had said on the Game, but her mind was blurring and she couldn't quite remember, couldn't focus on much other than smiling pleasantly and ignoring Josephine's eyes burning into her back. “I do hope they rest in peace, now. I am sorry for your loss, Lady Lavellan.” She almost chokes, nails digging into her other palm as she forces a grateful smile, the conversation ending neatly at those words and she turns, the worry written on the ambassador's face lit by the moon's glow coming from a large window nearby. Lavellan wants her nails to break her skin, force pain into her nerves and stop her from falling apart in the middle of the winter palace, but all she can do is walk slowly over to the Antivan, tanned hands reaching out to pull her own from the piercing grip on her hand. She starts talking, about the shoes that were fashionable in the Orlesian capital at the moment, how she could not believe the weather had been so calm tonight, the jewels that glittered around the small necks of nobles who held no land at all, but liked to show wealth to pretend they had a stake in Orlais. There are the eyes of her other advisers on her back, Cullen's are worried, warm and they remind her of the way babala would look upon her and Oleander – Leliana's gaze reeks of suspicion, but it masks the curiosity and the care she exudes for Lavellan when her guard falls, Josie's eyes are brown and she almost sobs before she remembers that they are in the middle of Halamshiral, at a ball, to _save_ the empress, no less. It was not the time for tears. They could remain, lingering at the back of her throat until later, when the day was saved and the _Inquisitor_ was presumed asleep.

 

 

She's staring off into the distance, arms resting on the balcony as the light wind moves a stray curl from its place behind her ear, his footsteps are quiet on the floor as he approaches, and she can't help but let a small smile raise the corners of her mouth when his gaze finally sets upon her face, the sob being shoved down as she lets out a light, shaky breath. “Enjoying yourself, I take it?” His hand splays on the small of her back, the soft freckles that splatter across his face more visible with the tipsy blush that was rosy on his cheeks. “I have missed the court intrigue, I must admit.” Solas' journeys in the fade were often accompanied with long stories, or the ruins of ancient buildings to prop him up as he sleeps, - but he offers no story to his words, and it leaves Lavellan to wonder on later. “It must be plentiful, in your journeys.” It was pleasant conversation, quiet and comfortable, talking about something that interested her in such a casual fashion, with someone who knew so much, who was willing to _share._ He hums, the fingers that lay low on her back now curling around her side and a thought flitters through her mind to just _how_ drunk he was, though his walk was perfectly straight, his gestures seemed almost softer, in a way.

 

Her eyes glance back to the view, and they stand like that in silence for a moment, his blue orbs studying every inch of her face, a blush of her own rising to the surface of her skin. “You are unhappy.” His words almost startle her, and she falters for a moment, not knowing what to say, or even if to lie about it at all. The light callouses of his other hand reach for her face, thumb brushing over the tip of her nose, fingers under her chin as he guides her face to look at him. She wants to say his name, to let her voice trail off but she cannot seem to quite get the words out, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly. He _knows_ , anyway. A hint of worry alight in his unusually soft eyes, and her mind pulls her back to the day she had gotten the letter, the dream that he had wandered into, before tucking her in and placing the parchment onto her nightstand. “I..” “ _You_ , are grieving. It is natural, Althrael, to mourn the loss of those you love, whom you share blood with.” She wants to scream, yell about how she had nearly lost control, nearly cried in front of the Duchess, in view of the entire Halamshiral court – but her feelings are clearly expressed in her eyes, and he blinks slowly, understandingly, under the glow of his wine induced blush. She feels _safe_ , here. Under his gaze, where she knows that nothing could ever touch her. Somewhere the thought of her lover pledging his life to her, _dying_ for her, pulls at her heart and a whole new set of worries bubble up within her chest, but he interrupts them, offering his hand and she _smiles_. Bright and genuine and her heart is warm, a fuzzy feeling where she had been missing something all this time, a numb, fear of the unknown it had replaced. He pulls her to his chest as they dance, his heart beating steady and it _calms_ her, pulls her back from the edge of a breakdown of grief and into him.

 

She can hear Oleander in the back of her mind, making a comment and sticking his tongue out, can feel the pout when Fira would slap him upside the head and a weighted sigh leaves her chest as she settles into Solas' embrace. For all the times she had wished to be rid of them, she never, _ever_ , wanted their memories to fade.

**Author's Note:**

> solas is never in character with me don't worry.


End file.
